


Chapter IV: Weathered and Warped

by SallySS



Series: Love Trunk [4]
Category: Claymore
Genre: Bisexuality, Depression, F/F, Homosexuality, brief nudity, self harm mention, severed limbs, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 14:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8251807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SallySS/pseuds/SallySS
Summary: Excerpts from the daily life of Rona, a new addition to the warriors known as Claymore, led by the mysterious Organization. Follow her through her struggles and triumphs as she fights to survive against the flesh craved yoma and awakened beings.
- A lapse in available missions gives Rona hope she can contact her waiting and worrying lover... but she has some doubts.





	

Crickets chirped, filling the cool night air with gentle white noise and Rona took a seat next to her crackling fire, drying off after a quick wash in a creek. Earlier that day she had stopped a merchant on the road to buy a few items, and when she saw he had flint and steel she purchased it without a second thought. She shook out her short hair, combing it to the side with her fingers, and looked down at the gnarled angry-looking scar that ran down the length of her body. Rona traced the cragged tissue with her fingertips, every inch the scar descended, it pulled her mood with it. How would she ever explain this to Adaira? This isn’t what she had planned, she hadn’t left home to become one of them. She should have turned down the organizations offer, but her pride had pushed her to accept because she couldn’t come home to Adaira after all the promises she made, empty-handed and destitute. The money... the money was too valuable to turn down, she couldn’t turn her back on it, but she had no idea what accepting their terms would mean, how it would distort her. Repulsive scar, hair and skin drained of any color they had, eyes of sharp striking silver, pointed ears of a wild beast, and worst of all, the faint but pungent smell that was akin to a rotting corpse overcome by plague, a stink you could never really get out of your nostrils. Rona barely recognized _herself._ She wouldn’t even be able to grow old with Adaira… she would no longer age, her body preserved in it’s present state.  
  
That is… If Adaira would even take her back...

 

Rona hunched over and covered her face with her hands, angry tears welling up in her eyes. She couldn’t walk through a village without people gaping and avoiding her; and even if Adaira accepted how Rona looked now, was it right of Rona to bring that burden upon the woman she loved? She had done this to make their lives easier, not to ostracize them completely. Damage control was the only thing she could think about now, how she could perhaps attempt to piece together what she had broken…  
  
Each warrior had been taught how to disguise themselves amongst humans for various missions, but Rona was rarely chosen just because of her blatantly pointed ears. They couldn’t be hidden with a pill, and anywhere indoors it was rude to wear a hooded cloak, so she was simply wasn’t qualified. Rona reached for her sword and drew it close to her, looking at it reflecting the firelight. If she could have her arm torn off and make a new one from thin air, perhaps she could cut off her ears and somehow make them what they once were.  
  
Rona positioned the sword behind her ear, heart beating hard. It was so different out of battle, she almost didn’t feel her arm torn off because so much adrenaline was pouring through her, but now that she wasn’t in the midst of battle she was hesitant. She closed her eyes, telling herself it would be alright; she would either succeed or be back where she started. She let out a slow, deep breath and gripped the sword in steadied hands.  
  
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” A voice came from beside Rona, startling her and making her almost cut off her ear by accident.

 

She looked up to see the man in black, shrouded in just as much mystery as any other of the organization, her handler Branly. Rona panted, the spook shot her heart into her throat. “Branly, you really do have the worst timing.”  
  
“I would say it could be worse. I could have waited till after you had disfigured yourself.” He stepped forward towards the fire so she could see him better. He had scars along his mouth that curved every-which-way and varied in depth and width, some of the cuts overlapping; it made Rona wonder if he had a fetish for barbed wire. His left eye was clouded over, but due to his persistent squinting it was hardly noticeable. Rona thought he was the least odd of all the members; he often tried to assume an aire about him that was much darker than his true personality, though with a bit of teasing he could be coaxed to show his true colors.  
  
“You’re not the first warrior to try that.” Branly said in a flat tone as if talking to a child.  
  
Rona bit the inside of her cheek, feeling a bit stupid. Of course the organization would have done that to her already if it made her look more human. “I just was wondering.”  
  
“Why do you want so badly for your ears to be rounded?” He squatted down, placing her new uniform beside her.  
  
Rona looked at it, remembering her previous uniform was lopsided now from the attack. It also served to remind her she wasn’t wearing anything, as she was drying off from her dip in the water. She set her sword down, crossing her arms over her chest and sitting with her legs together. “I don’t like looking very different. I was pale before and my hair was pretty light, the scar I can cover but the ears stick out like a sore thumb.”  
  
“And next you will gouge out your eyes to rid yourself of their silver color?” He stood, looming over her. “Don’t be naive.”  
  
Rona’s eyes fluttered shut in annoyance as she held back a growl from the reprimand. “Where am I headed next?” She decided it best to change the subject.  
  
“Nowhere yet. All the missions are either too challenging for you, or another warrior is closer to handle the situation. Enjoy your time off.” Branly turned to head back the way he’d came, adjusting the cloak around his head.  
  
“Thanks… Oh wait! What do I do with this?” Rona held up the severed arm that was now discolored and stiff with rigor mortis.  
  
Branly had peeked over his shoulder to see what she was prattling on about before setting eyes on the limb and physically recoiled from it. “Why are you carrying that around?”  
  
Rona looked at it and shrugged, “I dunno, I thought it was improper to leave it there. Want it?” She waved it around with a shit-eating grin as her handler shook his head.  
  
“The enjoyment you get from my reactions is uncanny, and I do not appreciate it.” Branly glared at Rona as she burst into giggles. He let out an irritated rumble in the back of his throat and turned, walking off.  
  
Rona calmed her giggles, setting the arm back down. She had to pick on someone, and Branly seemed the only person who would hold a conversation with her anymore. She relaxed her body once more, wiggling her toes in front of the fire and decided to not worry about how her body looked for now, her primary goal was to stay alive.  
  
Rona waited till Branly was long gone before she went over to the bank of the creek and dug up from the silt the additional treasures she had purchased from the merchant. Small sheets of paper, a little pencil, and a plain golden chain necklace; a promise to keep in touch with Adaira, that she would fill the chain with little charms from each city she ventured to. All the goods were kept safe in a small leather pouch that could hide easily under one of the plates of armor hung on her hips. She tapped the pencil against her bottom lip, pondering what exactly she should tell Adaira. Her first note only said that she was alive, though a bit sore, and that she wouldn’t be in contact often; nothing to inform her love of what happened for those couple months. Now she felt she had to explain everything, even though Rona really didn’t understand it herself. Maybe it was better for her know nothing...  
  
The warrior had so many doubts, and it seemed the only thing that was certain is that she couldn’t undo what she had done. She decided to let the information trickle in bit by bit, telling her pieces here and there but remaining vague enough that she didn’t shock her fiancee to death.

_“To Adaira, My Love,_

  _How are you? Are you safe? I see that you’ve begun to make fudge again, I’m glad that the funds could allow you to make the confections you love so dearly. (It was delicious!) How is the bakery doing? Is the town doing well?_

_I am physically well, but my heart will be sick as long as I am apart from you; it can’t be helped. I am still in one piece, though not without a few scars. I have been traveling a lot, so messages from me will be sparse, but I will write to you whenever I can._  
  
_~R”_

  
It was really all she could fit on the small note of paper and she folded the jewelry inside, tucking the corner of the paper inside of itself to secure it shut. She packed her belongings together, tucking them in her folded uniform. Rona stoked the fire, the warmth it emitted was soothing on her skin, the smoke helping to mask the smell of her own body and she laid down with her head on her uniform. Exhaustion hit her all at once, and she fell asleep curled under the twinkling starlight.


End file.
